Best Remonstrate Poems
"We are moving fast towards an age where people will be lovers of self, lovers of
money, self-seeking. Self-gratifying, laying aside morality, spirituality, family
values, and God, for self-preservation, self-gratification, and a cheap thrill.
2 Timothy 3:1-5
Beautiful, Black, Precious, and Complicated
Nothing else like it has ever been fabricated because the recipe stated the
ingredients are outdated. And the original chef barely got credit when He made it.
So without sounding antiquated, let me tell you how I'm rated:
My Beauty is my quality that offers pleasure to the mind or senses. It gives me a
conspicuous essence to remonstrate the world's false pretenses. My temple
becomes a domineering visual aspect of grace, radiating a Saint's best quality
on a child-like face.
I'm Bold, Black, and Original of course. I stand with full force and demonstrate my
strength with no remorse. It's a color of authority and power as stylish and
timeless as an extraordinary and eloquent flower.
I am Precious, Gentle, Sweet, and Simple. I make all my flaws seem accidental.
A treasured soul that can't become nothing less than monumental. It only makes
sense that my ingredients are kept confidential.
Sophisticated and Complicated I remain, yet such a *****, audacious bird.
Professionally e-nun-ci-a-ting every word and ar-ti-cu-la-ting every verb. Inquiring
about uncanny intellect which remains unheard.
My aura and my persona suggests Royalty among most high. Promising me a
productive future and a thrill of a ride. So the next time you happen to stumble
across me, the child of a King, I prefer to be referred to as MISS QUEEN in your
dialect of linguistic strings.
We are victims
Tied with common fetters
Loosed in thoughts of varied choices and desires
Loosely searching to make ends meet:
The meeting at this spot,
Either to go or stay, is a choice.
We are victims
Of the policies of pain
Emitted to drive us crazy,
We are on the street , though not crazy.
Destroying our common patrimony.
In futility, our sweat squeezed and
Mixed with our hot blood,
Spilled on the street’
The rampage against the policies that police our lives.
We are victims
Caught in the web
Of a cruel nation
Piloted by scoundrels
The apostles of destruction
Who roused our emotions,
Taking the only broken cup
Left for us to scoop
The dirty water in the pond:
The beggar’s choice!
Out of pain, we have heaped mud
To cover the pond.
Yes, we are victims.
Our pain boldly inscribed on our skin
Our thick skin, the archive of servitude .
And every effort to initiate freedom,
The beginning of futility.
We are pushed to the wall,
The dog must bark.
While it barks,
Its kennel is sacred.
Let us not destroy each other, our lots and more.
Let us not engage the street to loot,
Though we remonstrate ,
Let’s not pull down our commonwealth,
The acreages of government,
They belong to us.
We are victims of a beautiful nation stressed with stench politicking.
Fear of Terrorism
T raumatized tortured tumultuous feelings of trepidation
E ncapsulating effervescing emotions everywhere eventually
R esponding rapidly to ruthless and relentless repetition of
R evelations of revolutionaries remorseless rapaciousness
O bstreperously obliterating outrageously the innocent
R etributions replicate as ramifications remonstrate
I nsurrection insidiously intensifies as ideologies immortalize
S trategically surreptitiously suffocating silently sons sanity
M ankind muses meticulously as methodologies morph into misery
John Derek Hamilton
March 24,2016
World stay still
Human is mortal
Life is a tale coming and going.
The Rate of increasing
is higher than the rate of decreasing.
Population of the country rise
meta her economy.
Poverty is unbearable.
It takes great impact in corruption.
People remonstrate "what is the
Impart of government"
Whereas, some cause much of it
Our government are doing their
best to make our country the best
Let join hands together
to build a strong nation
A nation where peace prevail
A nation of no poverty
A nation of no corruption
Let join hands together
To build a generation
of creative generous innovation
Our future lies within our hands.
20/5/2015
Contest: what's the big idea
Sponsor: lyric Man.
QUEEN OF HEARTS
Queen of Hearts, delightful and red,
Baked some tarts, or so it is said,
Left them to cool on the windowsill:
Knave of Hearts then ate his fill.
Queen called the King to remonstrate -
Court-royal was assembled to adjudicate:
Knave was guilty, plain to see,
But the court-royal set him free.
Queen called her queen-friends, spades and clubs.
They agreed it was the grossest of snubs,
Suggested punishment for the King so red:
No dinner, no tv, no sleeping in her bed.
More tarts were baked in fulness of time.
Eating them was made a serious crime
By Queen’s new red husband,
The legally reliable King of Diamond.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for Paula Swanson's Contest "Pick A Card, Any Card"
Ever heard of a creep name'a bully gates?
The real snake eyed misb-egotton rake
Of death he quotes; and compiles notes
To paroxsyms erotic does his being shake?
Croons dead flat, pennys left; its eyes he'll take
Sickness he offers, and its spores with glee
He's not out to stop! any spread do see.'
He's pushing those drugs, some out of date.'
He has has his cronies, they're never mates.'
His aging mantra, does truly grate
Upon the senses, now we remonstrate'
The world as a whole's no longer gonn'a take
The putrid quackery; of this old, bully gates.'
Brothers Levi, Jordan, Matthews, Joe and Jedden,
You were sheer shocked as did Sister Hussein
That even this day we can still adjure, argue, advocate,
And advance active activism for the rule of law stolen,
As did Dr Manuele or Orton Chirwa before this date
Who blustered against the egalitarian promise broken;
Or as before them, Rev. Chilembwe’s burst with rage
Being shocked and choked with downright disbelief
At the atsamundas’ well premeditated prejudice cage;
Segregation and Thangata, and such other mischief.
Brothers, that day of shock, you also shade sad tears,
Which many of us here have also done over the years
Seeing that even this day the gods had stolen the show;
Not for good reasons, but for partying ragged ignorance
Of commoners: of clapping again, of praising as before,
Egalitarian impotence these present day gods prance
As constructive criticism they castigate; at times cajole
With constipated wallets: aiming to gag, retch reprimand;
As they throw all to keep the land in the hopeless hole
They had damned it in with their fresh oppressive wand.
Brothers, it is truly sad that even today we expostulate
As the present gods fancy people that do not remonstrate;
Sad they hate to hear the philosophy that does not blush
When it comes to slam their ‘big-man’ mind-set upfront
As was done to the past cruel gods in their groan, and gush
Of verbose at critics, who did not fear their haunt and hunt
But stood firm amidst the god’s aggressive intimidation,
Jeer, jolly josh, lampoon, lies, lash outs, lectures or leer,
Or needle and outrageous orates, aimed at the obfuscation
Of the commoners so they fail to question or query this *****
Performance of raging and ranting even this present day
To have this blast from the past, Brothers you saw, at play.
...inspired by 'An Artist' by Seamus Heaney
He keeps himself confined,
to bluster now, and remonstrate
the struggle being more than he can bear.
Pieces of him pulverized, fashioned from
the sweat of his own making to a glimpse
of the immortal, just a glimpse, but not
the crowning glory.
So many vestiges, heros in the making,
but a careless chip, an errant slice,
consigns them to the beggars pile,
without that patina of agelessness.
Never ready, never groomed to wear
that sacred halo on their heads,
the crowning glory.
Once in a while a piece emerges,
bursting from the cold, defiant marble,
his fingers can't work fast enough
to exorcize this deity,
fingers, limbs and face in perfect symmetry,
they become eternal,
the suggestion of a wreath their crowning glory!
sheep sleep surreptitiously
spiders spin shredded silken seances
song birds sulk soporifically
rabid ravens rave rapturous rhapsodies
capriciously caught in clangour
I die dire deceptive dreams
tepid tears tear through torment
viscous vapours vacate venom
pus pelts my pitiful pillow
oozes omnipotent oblivion
alliterations alight anger
freeze fervent fear
reiterate raucous refusal
ruminate reverberate rancid rile
I wake the wake of weary waste
recycle random rubbish remonstrate
then morning mourns Morpheus
mocks mountains of morose meanders
day dawns dubious daunting delight
as I tease temptation to take a tally
send syllables into space and shuttle
to morphing metaphors from my mind
until excruciating echoes become echelons
of cumbersome circuits and contempt
when restless rest revisits and revolves
recoils at respite and the raven raves
20th December 2020
In my quiet time I meditate!
In my happy mood I appreciate
God's love ever unceasing
His mercies ever enduring!
In my joyful mood I celebrate!
In my thankful mood I enumerate
God's love and kindness
Abiding in us in their fullness!
In my time of trouble I demonstrate
In my time of persecution I remonstrate
God's love and goodness
Abiding in us in their wholeness!
From God's love nothing can us separate!
Good or bad times are too effeminate
God's love is forever sure
Dwelling in all who trust in him!
When Christ was born
when souls were saved
is it that date
I meditate!
A trampoline of hesitate
all up and down
acoustics rate
consumerism runs irate!
The children whisper
"don't be late"
It's still the please zone
in rebate!
As rhyme to rhyme
configurate
the need for joy within
ones state!
So sorry, I commiserate
go out and just
do celebrate
we're fools for action's remonstrate!
and still commune . . . . and complicate!
In the scheme of things, in the sweetly dreaming night,
The wintry grey or summer gold of day and daylight,
Whatever is proven or not must be the proof,
And whatever belief is believed must be the truth.
All that can be done is to remonstrate and reason
Yet logic seemingly cannot change the nature of this season,
And climates remain and act as climates are depicted,
So whatever fate bestows is clearly unpredicted.
It was real and sincere, or so I think and theorise,
And with a sudden death decree it can only be surmised,
That issues misinterpreted and the reference of ideas
Made it just the way you wanted, so as not to end in tears.
Yet in the scheme of things, at the heart of times turning,
Between June roses in bloom and November fires burning,
In my conversations between the March Hare and Mad Hatter
I only spoke unto myself the question: “Ah… but did it matter?”
And the answer, I know, in truth, is: “Yes…it did.”
But that does not stop the closure of the creaking coffin lid?
And it will not stop me thinking and considering the path
That led to cruel configuration of a phantom epitaph.
Write some limericks using words below.
Here are some examples that I just created.
Jim Horn
Bar Stool Had Been Destroyed
Instead of him being a drinking fool,
Threw bar stool into swimming pool;
Now no longer here,
Or close and near;
Did find destroyed in a fighting duel.
Want You To Do
Here is what I will want you to do;
Use words below being quite a few;
With pen in hand,
Do something grand;
Write limericks making dreams come true.
Rambunctious, unctuous, sumptuous.
Affinity, amenity, obscenity.
Steward, assured, reoccurred.
Invigorate, integrate, satiate.
Caress, impress, duress.
Eatable, incredible, pitiful
Urinal, nocturnal, eternal.
Sedate, wait, constipate, celebrate.
Illustrate, prevaricate, humiliate.
Propensity, proclivity, sensitivity.
Worrying, hurrying, scurrying.
Remote, devote, anecdote.
Caught, onslaught, bought.
Heard some say, going my way and make my day.
Realize, scrutinize, alibis.
Escapade, made, parade
Sprayed, laid, cavalcade.
Cultural, natural, fulfil.
Devastating, contemplating, relating.
Parallel, compel, sell.
Skin, men, again.
Compensate, remonstrate, procreate, appropriate.
Aspire, entire, mire, higher.
Try these on for size.
Chelated Souls’ De-lamentation
Lovers dejected
lick wounds remonstrate lonely
sorrow ‘til they meet
mate seduce in sex love rock
roll in minds soul mingled hay
26th September 2016
Contest Lament A Tanka
Syllable 5 7 5 7 7 =31
Blame hardly ever helps unless it is used to express anger
it does not achieve any more than venting raging frustration
levels the playing field to a point apportioning recrimination
without actually achieving anything but turning on the tap
of seemingly futile emotions seeking for a functional cause
My lover and I were set to move on from Spain back to home
a new abode on the British Isles to work and retire for good
Sitting in a house in Valencia with boxes packed with books
memorabilia trinkets and carpets rolled up for easy transport
we simply waited for one final certificate from the authorities
Nothing fancy just a signature on paper and promised long ago
but nothing had prepared us for the legendary mañana mañana
with months of inaction inaptitude and not a thought for reason
We are working on it they said but no one seemed to care about
how much depended on the form and a long chain of consequences
Now the buyers pulled out and who can blame them as they
patiently waited such a long time and eventually merely gave up
on their dream and by proxy on our venture and own aspirations
Unpacking the moving goods will keep us busy for a short while
to make our house presentable once more and waiting to ensue
Injustice grinds its teeth at feelings and reason that do not conform
fail to find the wise mind to align their disarray and stark confusion
and so we are lost in transition that keeps on lingering for an eternity
while our souls bleed remonstrate on what ifs and other conjunctives
Lashing out at floorboards and ceilings does not deal with the grief
My grandma used to say it is what it is and advised with great caution
that one never knows what it may be good for and advised acceptance
and her problems were bigger than ours with a war raging in Europe
bombs on her head ruins devastation existential fear and an unknown
and we have each other a roof over our heads and food on our table
And yet it is difficult to be grateful when a vision for imminent future
has been shattered so crudely in its unfairness of unnecessary delay
On the bright side candles and scent sticks are unpacked as we pray
17th March 2021